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I almost said no, but I needed her help. One of the worst things about the scars on my back was constantly relying on someone to be able to rub in moisturising cream where I couldn’t reach. Sam helped last week. Even my brothers helped from time to time.
“Is there anything you wanted to say about last night?” Mum asked, our eyes meeting in the bathroom mirror.
“Have you ever wondered what you would do if we didn’t have the farm?” I hedged.
Mum rubbed in the cream, unperturbed by my question. “Oh yes, your father and I used to play ‘what if’ late at night when you were in kindy. We were in the worst drought back then.”
“What? Really?” I straightened. “What did you say you’d do instead?”
“Back then I said I’d go back to teaching but now, I’ve been out of that for too long. Not sure what I’d do now. I could be a wool classer for hire during the shearing season, I guess.”
“Wouldn’t you miss living here?” How could my mother be so calm about losing the farm that seven generations had called home?
Mum met my eyes in the mirror. “Of course I would. Turner’s Creek is, well I was going to say special, but the word is letting me down. You know … I still feel like your dad is here, even after ten years.” She shook herself, screwing the lid back on the cream. “Why’d you ask, love?”
“No reason,” I muttered, exiting the bathroom.
“Stacey.”
I paused in the hallway.
She sighed, holding up the cream. “You’re almost out. You’ll need to get more from the pharmacy when you’re in Stanmore today.”
“I’ll get some after work.” I nodded. “Gotta go. Want to get in early.”
“If you want to talk, Stacey, I’m here.”
I nodded again and headed to get ready. Despite the early hour, lots of people were already in town. I parked a block away from work, slung my handbag over my shoulder, balanced the cupcake container on one hand and carried my design portfolio under the other.
I was about to unlock the front door at work but paused, feeling dread wash over me, like I’d always be stuck working for the Stanmore Medical Practice. It was good work, regular work. But it didn’t make my heart sing. Couldn’t I have both a good job that I loved?
My hand flexed around my portfolio. There was still a chance. Maybe Doc Larcombe, when he returned, would like my ideas.
But, now was not the time for fanciful dreams. Now was the time for survival.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open and heard voices inside already. The door closed behind me and I stumbled upon seeing Harrison.
Harrison!
I swear my vagina cheered upon the sight of him.
He was talking to Pam, our practice manager and baby nurse.And Phil’s mother!
My portfolio slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor, my drawings spilling everywhere. I managed to catch the cupcakes container from falling when both Harrison and Pam turned.
“Stacey, oh dear. Let me help. It’s so good to have you back.” Pam relieved me of cupcakes and my handbag as I dropped to my knees to grab my drawings.
Harrison also reached down to help. As we stood, he handed me my last sketch and we both looked each other in the eye.
“Anastasia,” he spluttered, like he couldn’t believe I was here.
Pam frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, Dr Cain?”
Wait, doctor?!
No. My one-night stand cannotbe a doctor.No!
He shook his head, his gaze on me. “Sorry, you reminded me of someone.” He offered his hand. “I’m Doctor Harry Cain, nice to meet you.”
